Fairytale of New York
by Yandere Kirkland chan
Summary: In a final attempt to salvage their relationship, Scotland and England go to the place their love began. Love, fighting, nostalgia, regret. Can they find a Christmas miracle? Trigger warning and depression.


**Fairytale of New York**

 **A/N: Warning! Sad I think. This is a ScotEng song fic based on the song Fairytale of New York. It is sad (if I have written it right) but has a Christmassy ending. It came to me while I was day dreaming while listening to the song (which is my favourite Christmas song btw) so I decided to write it. I hope you like it: Enjoy…**

It was Christmas Eve again and Scotland was in the drunk tank, like every other fucking night of his life. Scotland had come in there fuming and ready to punch a hole through the wall, again nothing new. He had gone directly to the bar counter and spent half his money on whisky, he needed the rest for gambling. Fucking Arthur, he could go jump of a bloody building for all Allistor cared.

About 7 pints later he felt numbed enough to play roulette without being in any immediate danger of snapping necks. He sauntered up to the table and checked out the numbers and the odds. Damn this was going to test his luck. He decided to bet on 7, the number of pints he'd had. There were eighteen men betting, all on different numbers. Whoever won was in for a thrashing, that didn't lessen Scotland's desire to win though. The board was spun and there was silence as all the lonely souls watched the ball spin and spin and spin and…

7! Scotland jumped up and cheered, claiming his winnings. Angry, broke men launched themselves at Allistor, but he threw them off with a couple of well-aimed punches, it was all part of the fun. He used a small fraction of the money to buy rounds for the whole pub, which made the crowd happy. Now Allistor was happy, the events of the night started flooding back and a feeling of regret filled him. He had to go and apologise, then they could go blow his winnings on a luxury hotel and celebrate Christmas in style.

(L-E-T-'S—B-A-C-K-T-R-A-C-K—A—B-I-T)

Scotland and England had come to New York in a final attempt to save their relationship. Back to the place their love had begun: the very same place, the very same day of the year, only 10 years later. Had it only been ten years? It felt like an eternity. Both people remembered that day, the magic they felt. The city had cars as big as bars and rivers of gold, a wonderland for two young adults. But standing on the very same roof top, looking to the light-filled streets bellow, all they could think of was the way the wind and cold bit into their bones. Before there was love now all they could do was fight and reminisce about the past.

"What has happened to us?" Arthur said. They had just finished another fight and the tension was still in the air. They were sat on the edge of an abandoned roof, looking down at the Christmas decorations littering the streets. "You were handsome back then." Arthur pointed out. "Yeah. Well you were pretty." Scotland retorted. "Shut up bastard!" England said shoving Allistor, it was half-hearted, though, neither of them had the strength to start fighting again. "Everything was so perfect back then. The music, the dance, even the filthy drunks joined in with the fun." Arthur started again. Neither of them looked at each other, their eyes would give too much away and neither of them could take giving 'them' another shot. "We are the filthy drunks." Scotland grunted "It's exactly the same, Arthur, listen. The NYPD choir is singing right now. The same song too. This city never changes, it's on permanent repeat. It's us who have changed, there is nothing we can do about that, it's how life works." England laughed "Bloody hell, Scotland, stop sounding so wise, you're making me seem stupid."

"You know we would have worked out if you weren't such a controlling, jerk." Scotland reasoned. "Here we go again." England sighed standing up, turning his back on Scotland. "It's true, you can't deny it!" England snorted his response. "Well it is. How many people have left you? I recon it's about a hundred people now. Let's see there's you and Australia, you and New Zealand, you and Canada, you and America... hmm, I wonder what the common factor is?" Scotland said, sarcastically. "Hey, all I ever did was spoil them. It's not my fault they are ungrateful brats!" England defended. "Oh, spoil them? That's what you call it? Let's be more specific shall we? Let's look at you and Alfred."

England's face reddened "Don't you dare!" he whispered dangerously. "Alfred," Scotland continued, ignoring him "Your first little baby brother, hanging of your every word. He loved you unconditionally and how did you repay him? You left a small child alone for months on end!" "I was an empire! I had responsibilities to tend to!" England gasped, outraged. "Stealing from Spain and getting wasted in pubs aren't 'responsibilities'. But what about later? You were the wealthiest nation in the world what the hell is your excuse for taxing a child nation? You are a bloody greedy, power-hungry bastard and there is nothing you can do to deny it. I'm not surprised Alfred couldn't wait to get away from you." Scotland had struck a nerve and he knew it. Arthur's eyes had started to water, he had no comeback to that. But Scotland was angry and wanted to make someone hurt like he did, that small victory only egged him on. "But you just don't know when to drop it do you? Now that America is free from you he has become powerful, more powerful than you. You do absolutely everything you can to make him feel bad, but really England, comments on his weight? That's low. I'm not surprised that America hates you, all the love and admiration his heart held for you, you extinguished with your bitterness."

That made England snap "You bastard!" Arthur shrieked, catapulting himself at his brother. "You bum, you punk, you heartless bastard, take that back!" he screamed, punching Allistor's arm. "No, Arthur, you are the heartless one. You are an evil, ugly one-penny-slut, who can't cook and can't let go of the past so you have been left behind and forgotten by everyone who once held you dear. I would call you tsundere but that implies you actually have emotions. You are younger than me yet so old you are standing there half dead. Who would ever love you?" "Well, everyone knows who I get it from." Arthur hissed "You're a cheap, violent drunk. You're worthless scum! Merry Christmas your arse, it'll bloody well be our last, I'll make sure of that." With that Arthur turned his back to Allistor again. Allistor spat at England's feet and gave him one final shove then walked off without looking back once and his departing words… "I hate you."

England, now alone, walked to the edge of the roof and slumped down into a sitting position on the floor. He gazed down to the streets bellow again. Now there was no one to see him there was no reason to restrain his tears, which rolled freely down his cheeks. _I hate you…_ Such a simple sentence, but if it is said truthfully by someone you love then there are no words more deadly. Arthur loved Allistor completely with all his heart. None of Arthur's dreams or aspirations meant anything now, they all depended solely on Scotland. Scotland's words hurt so much because they were true. No one loved him. He was an evil, heartless, selfish bastard; who would love him? It hurt going to world meetings and seeing people he once loved and still did treating him either with disgust, hatred, pity… or not acknowledging his presence at all. He was truly unloved.

Arthur cried. He sobbed uncontrollably until there were no more tears left to cry. He then sat their watching the families and friends happily celebrating with the people they loved until the cold wind had dried his tears. At some point it had started snowing and the bells rang out declaring the beginning of Christmas day. He then continued to sit there, numbly, staring into the streets so far below…

(A-L-L-I-S-T-O-R-'S—P.-O.-V)

Scotland fumbled back in the direction of the roof. Curse his body, it was drunk and clumsy, though his mind was completely sober, thinking through the task ahead. What words would he use? He had been out of line, that much he knew. Allistor just hoped that England was still there, he would hate for Arthur to have left without Scotland having an opportunity to apologise. He hoped that they could just put this behind them and go to that luxury hotel Scotland had mentioned.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Scotland arrived in the right street. He didn't have to climb the ladder to the roof because there was Arthur! He was as heart stoppingly beautiful as ever. Arthur displayed all the colours of Christmas: the snow on his face a pure white, his hair a magical gold, his eyes an intense forest green… and his blood cut through it all with a sharp red.

He found himself intrigued by the vivid pool as an emptiness engulfed his body. The crimson was steadily spreading, staining the white snow of Arthur's bed. A hysterical laugh bubbled up from Scotland's throat, then the situation finally hit him. He fell to his knees and let out a shriek as he clutched his brother's broken skull to his heart, sobbing. Why? If only he had voiced his departing thoughts, if only he had let his brother know that he was so very loved. No petty argument could change that.

He looked down at the body for some hope, some reassurance, but none came. The circle of blood had spread so far and some of the blood on Arthur's face had dried and flaked, it had been ages since England had jumped from the roof, if Arthur had originally survived the fall he would have still long ago died. England, Arthur, his little baby brother, his lover and his soul mate was gone.

Scotland pressed his hand against Arthur's chest searching for a heartbeat as a final plea for Arthur to be fine. He should have done this when he first found the body but Scotland was so very afraid to confirm the inevitable. He didn't really see why he was bothering now, maybe to find closure, he didn't know. But, whatever the reason, he focused half-heartedly searching for a heartbeat and there it was! Weak and almost unfindable, but there none the less. Scotland's eyes widened in shock and happiness.

Allistor could remember the first time he felt that little heartbeat, when he held Arthur for the first time and Arthur looked up, little eyes taking in every single detail, Scotland had smiled at him and in return Arthur smiled for the first time in his newly born life. That heartbeat was too precious to loose, far more valuable than all the money in Scotland's pocket. Hell, all the money in the world! Scotland let out a cry of joy. Now that he knew what it was like to think he had lost Arthur, now that he remembered how much he loved his brother, well he had never truly forgotten, Scotland was determined to make sure that he and England never parted. He knew that this was far from over and that there were still so many things that could go wrong, but still, this was a Christmas miracle…

 **A/N: So yeah. Merry Christmas! Tell me in the comments if I succeeded in making that sad or not and if you liked it in general. Thank you for reading!**


End file.
